‘Welcome to the History of Scientific Progress. It is my hope that as we explore the foundations of our everyday technologies, they will become a little less commonplace, a little more—I use this word advisedly—miraculous, and you will have a greater appreciation—even awe—for the advances we’ve made as a species.’
The virtual classroom is equipped with Destiny, the latest generation Linguistic Manifestor App, which Professor Allport has surreptitiously set to run in the background during the lecture. As she speaks she tracks the programme’s live scripts. She is unsurprised to see the irrealis clauses in her introductory remarks (they will become a little less commonplace…you will have a greater appreciation) successfully translated to realis.
A rush of enthusiastic responses suggests that it’s working. The everyday technologies are already less commonplace. The students are already in awe.
‘I’ll invite you now to think back to the time before we knew about the linguistic field. As you know, the linguistic field is more localised and thus more subtle than other fields—electromagnetic, gravitational, quantum, etc.—and much time was wasted in convincing the scientific community that it even existed.
‘As we’ll discover on this course, lay people often have intuitions about scientific phenomena prior to their discovery and validation in the academic community. This was the case with linguistic manifesting. Individuals who wished to manifest something in their lives would often make use of affirmations—painstaking processes of verbally translating the irrealis into the realis. People used affirmations to change their irrealis desires (I wish I were thin and attractive) to their realis expressions (I am thin and attractive).’
The students respond with giggling emojis. It’s amusing to them to think of a time when people weren’t thin and attractive.
‘Manifesting through a verbal channel is so slow and requires such consistent repetition that it very seldom produces results. With the discovery of the linguistic field, we’ve been able to bypass the verbal channel and change the programming from irrealis to realis instantaneously.’
The professor notes an aggressively toned message in the discussion feed and inwardly sighs.
What about hyperrealis?
Do they think the question is original? Every year the course attracts students who fancy themselves revolutionaries, pontificating in favour of the absurd idea that a mode exists that transcends realis and irrealis.
Hyperrealis, they believe, is a ‘third space’ where desires are not immediately granted. Hyperrealis is supposed to usher in a new collective reality, a new way of being or thinking, beyond desire.
‘Hyperrealis is a fantasy,’ she used to say, which inevitably provoked dissent.
Now she says nothing, but shoots her desire at Destiny. ‘I wish they’d not asked the question,’ she thinks.
They’d not asked the question transforms immediately into realis and the world is set to rights.
The question has never been asked.
Would you like to know more about this story? I discuss it in Episode 100 of Structured Visions, ‘Selfish wishes for social change’. You can also sign up to the Grammar for Dreamers newsletter to get monthly updates on the ideas that inspire my work.
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